


What If...

by StoryQueen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: I'LL UPDATE TAGS AS I ADD NEW CHAPTERS, M/M, The X Factor Era, What-If, audition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryQueen/pseuds/StoryQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has lived a lot of his life wondering <i>what if,</i> but maybe he should stop wondering about the bad things in life.</p><p>or The one where every time Harry wonders something, it comes true. (Not magically, just as a plot guideline... You'll see...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm gonna update tags as I add chapters.
> 
> So it it based off a prompt that I asked people on Tumblr to do, but no one replied, so I decided to do it myself.
> 
>  
> 
> **"Request to anyone: I want a chaptered 1D story (don’t mind the ship) where each chapter starts with the main charater wordering “what if…” and within that chapter, they find out. So at the start it’ll be things like “what if I hang out with [other person] tomorrow” to “what if they find my secret diary” to “what if [other person] is actually in love with me.” Sorry, I like fics that cleverly foreshadow what’s gonna happen! Please someone write this." >**

_What if I actually get through?_

This thought crossed Harry mind, along with others 'what ifs'. Gemma had commented a few times that the look on this face was showing what he was feeling. "Will you quit with ya worrying," she had said as the line shifted forward, "You'll do fine, love."

X Factor had been something that Harry had daydreamed about, effortlessly waltzing onto the stage in front of hundreds of people and just letting the words flow out of his mouth. He'd practised many times in front of the big wall-length mirror in his Mum's room, holding Gemma's spiky circular hairbrush in one hand, the other hand clenched into a fist as he hit the high notes. He had gone through a number of songs, trying to find the right one, and despite liking all of them, _Isn't She Lovely_ just had to be the one he sang.

The line shifted again, and as they followed the eccentric sibling duo in front of them, Harry looked up to the looming building above them, the upper floors towering over, bending to cascade a tsunami of shadow onto him, and he had to reach out to grasp onto Gemma's wrist just to pull himself back into reality. "You'll do fine," she repeated, and for a second, he believed her.

Inside was a mess of people, a swarm of costumes with a fog of hairspray and the hard, plastic chairs beyond the sign in booth that were digging into his back weren't helping his nerves. Gemma still hand hold of his arm, over the course of the three hour wait, moving from his arm, to his wrist, until they were locking fingers. She squeezed his hand gently and nudged his shoulder with her forehead when the number before him stood up to go backstage. "You ready?" she whispered.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure.

_What if I wasn't--- What if I couldn't--- What if I shouldn't---_

He turned to look at his sister and Mum smiling. He heard his number being called out.

_What if I actually get through?_

He stood up, the echo of the thought still buzzing around his head, and he zomberly staggered, led by his sister's guiding arm, to where he could head music playing and the crowd booing and the judges complaining. A team of black-shirted crew surrounded him, a lack touch of makeup, a microphone on his shirt, another in his hand, a sip of water, a congregation of good lucks, and he felt his sister's hands push him from behind the curtains.

He couldn't hear the crowd. He could see that they were cheering-- of course they were cheering-- but he couldn't head them. For a second he couldn't see the judges, the direct spot in front of him where he sat blinded by spotlights, but looking through the light he found them, sitting, smiling, waiting.

_What did they say?_

"Harry Styles," he said, because that's what everyone else said when they first came on stage; their name. Nicole giggled. Great.

He looked past the judges, letting his conscious do the talking. The crowd was a mushy brown colour, the mix of reds and blues of the shirts mixing with the dark burgundy seats that were so atypical of theatres and stadiums that Harry was sure that every actor or performer was sick of the shade by now. Maybe that's what made the stage look so much more glamorous; the contrast between the mush and the brightly coloured costumes, set and acting was always outstanding.

Glancing in the corner of his eye, he could see Gemma waving, a smile bright on her face, and through that he could see the slight panic, the sympathy she felt, the oh my God, Harry, don't mess up now that she had refused to wear all day, but then Harry realised that she wasn't wearing it now, nor was she thinking it, and instead he was letting his own feelings place themselves in his vision.

Of course he wouldn't mess this up. This was his one chance.

The music started playing, and the words left his mouth, and the brown distortion in front of him became his Mum's room again, and he could see himself, he spotty face, his crown of curls, the awkward, larky body wrapped in a blanket of white cotton t-shirt that belonged the Gemma's super cool ex-boyfriend who left to join the RAF, and the feeling of complete comfort, control, invincibility took over him. He imagined Gemma sneaking in behind him, assuming Harry wouldn't notice, but Harry could see her in the mirror, and he smiled, feeling the radiation of pride coming from his older sister, and his shoulders dropped and he forced back a laugh. He bobbed on his heals- this was fun- and for a second, as the final chords played, he wondered what the next song on his shuffle playlist would be, but then the crashing sound of cheering shattered the mirror, and he fell, dropped to the concrete and remembered where he was, and suddenly it was all too much.

This feeling, being on stage, being loved, being recognised for talent. He assumed he'd never get use to the feeling. Surely there was only fifteen minutes of this feeling. Maybe a bar in Northwich, maybe a wedding in Castle, maybe even at a family event in Pickmere. But on a stage? No. He didn't think he had another chance at this.

He smiled at the judges replies, trying to believe their comments, but he gave up trying and just let the selfish pride sink in and allowed himself to feel it. He was good. He was great. He needed a bit of practise, but he could sing. Simon Cowell said he could sing. He walked off stage, into Gemma's arms, and he let a tear roll down his face.

_So that's what would happen._

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) x
> 
> (And if you're wondering where Northwich, Castle and Pickmere are, their by Harry's hometown, Holmes Chapel. I live in Wincham, very _very > close by to where Harry lives (Fun Fact: He actually now lives in Antrobus, the other side of Wincham than HC) so these places mentioned are local towns and villages. I would normally say something to try and promote tourism right about now, but honestly, there's not much here except a load of building works. Sorry to disappoint! Don't worry; Antrobus is a nice, quiet village, so at least Harry's having a good life :)_


End file.
